Life, The Day I Become A Re-Pat

I get up early, shower, polish off a strawberry yogurt, check email. The apartment is quiet for a while. After a bit, the Eleven O’Clock Dad gets up and goes into high gear. He is remarkable during cruch time.

Today will be crazy. We’re almost packed, which means nothing, really. It’s that last ten percent that gets you every time.

* * *

Mid morning, friends show up to help us with last-minute cleaning and relieve us of fridge and cupboard items that need a home. Saying goodbye to friends here?–brutal. Truly. Alarm bells keep going off in my head, signaling the end of this Brilliant Moment in my life, and I keep punching “snooze” so I don’t have to think about it. If I do, it’s all over.

Last night, Miss Lavender and I stood for a few minutes and stared at the Barcelona Cathedral. When I felt myself tearing up, I told her we needed to go.

* * *

Early afternoon. We’re packed, though still shuffling a few things around so we don’t go over our weight limits. The flat looks startlingly bare. Strange, that a place that was never our permanent home will always feel so much like home.

Barcelona. BCN. The Catalans say “Adeu,” their version of Adios. I’m not going to say it, though. “Hasta pronto” works better for me.

Oh Bex…I’m tearing up as I understand only a smidgeon of what you are feeling. What an extraordinary thing to live in a place that captures a piece of your heart, indeed your soul. Your affection for Barcelona is contagious! I will always be grateful for your gift Be safe. xxx